


Shots Fired

by flippednique



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, She killed herself, They're all part of the mafia, Viktor's wife dies, Yelena is Yuri's mother, Yuuri is the wakagashira, or... did she?, she's dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 13:24:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9550952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flippednique/pseuds/flippednique
Summary: Viktor Nikiforov is a philosophy teacher to teenagers. He takes particular interest in a Japanese student, Masaru who has a hard time fitting in.He's not sure how it happens, but he finds himself holding his son in an investigatory room, after a day of shocking events, face to face with Masaru's father."My name is Katsuki Yuuri, wakagashira of the Hasetsu clan. We have a lot to talk about."





	

"And why exactly did Socrates think of such a statement?"

It was usual for students to follow a certain routine once questions started flying in his classroom. They had a specific set of guidelines, not complicated at all. Just a simple 1-2-3.

1\. Don't look at him. Everyone knows that when you look at the teacher, he was more likely going to call you.   
2\. Don't look at a fellow classmate. That would mean you weren't paying attention, and again he was more likely going to call you.   
3\. Don't look at your paper, or else it would seem that you actually want to be called, but you don't have enough courage to raise your hand. If he notices this, then you guessed it right, he will call you.

To be safe, all you had to do was let your eyes wander, or fix a puzzled expression on your face. That way it would seem you were thinking, or better yet, philosophizing, about something that could contribute to the class' discussion. If you ask one of the students in the back row, they'd tell you to try and divide 323 by 12- works every time.

Or at least that's what the little buggers thought.

Viktor Nikiforov smirked at the sudden fall of silence. He had not expected anything less. This batch of students that he had the pleasure (or displeasure) of teaching, did not give the effort he wished they would for his classes. Philosophy could be fun! They just had to stop dreading it.

"Anyone? No one?" Viktor asked, just a tad bit hopeful.

"Sir! Masaru would like to answer!"

"What?" The volunteered boy squawked in indignation and glared at his fellow first years, but upon seeing Viktor staring at him, clearly expecting (he'd take what he could get out of these brats) he stood up anyways to deliver. "Perhaps, what he means by saying that 'a person who knows is a person who knows that he does not know' is that a person... who is... humble enough to admit that he does not know about something, but is willing to learn about it, is someone who is smart enough to realize that he does not know everything... and is in fact knowledgable because of it? I think that that makes sense."

Viktor smirked. The boy definitely delivered. "Excellent answer. I love it. Absolutely brilliant!"

"Thank you sir." Masaru' cheeks colored but he sat back down, and ignored the cheerful pats his classmates gave his back. It wasn't often that the boy answered, but he was full of bright ideas! It was such a shame that the Academy required a fourty percent on recitation otherwise he would have been one of those on the top of the class. Then again, this children were gifted. It was hard to believe they were only twelve.

"I suppose I have nothing else to teach you today." Viktor announced, wanting to cut his students some slack. "There may or may not be a pop quiz on Thursday, keep that in mind."

Almost immediately everyone left, all except for Masaru. Viktor had expected as much.

"Professor Nikiforov?"

"Yes Masaru?" Viktor sat down in his big chair and waved the small brunet inside. He was a tiny thing at eleven, and was often isolated from his peers for being Japanese. The poor boy desperately needed some friends.

"My father came back from the States today." Masaru smiled and produced a small parcel from inside his book bag. "I wanted to give you this to say thank you. For not failing me like everybody else did and of course for being my personal adviser of sorts."

Viktor stared at the offered parcel and shook his head. "There's no need for that Masaru. I know what you're capable of, and that's why I passed you."

"I i-insist though." Masaru pushed the parcel towards him as he dipped in a bow. "I-I... I know you like... stuff like this and when I saw it in my Otou-san's stuff I knew you'd love it so... I... it's supposed to be mine but I'd like for you to have it."

Viktor, curiosity piqued, accepted the parcel and looked inside, right before he closed it once more, his eyes wide and his cheeks red. "W-Well Masaru..."

"I knew you'd like it!" Masaru cheered upon seeing the slight turn of his lips. "It's a collectible, I think."

"It's a l-lovely gift." Viktor nodded, touched. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Masaru waved, blue eyes bright. "I'll be leaving then Sir Nikiforov, thank you again!"

Viktor watched as his student left and once more looked into the parcel. He pulled the stuffed poodle out and stroked it's head. "I think I'll name you Makkachin."

\-------------------------------------

"Papa's home! Papa's home!" Jem let out a massive squeal as Viktor entered the house, taking off his hat and coat and hanging them on the rack. The smell of something delicious greeted him as well as an armful of his most favorite person in the world.

"Hello there moy solynshko!" Viktor scooped his son up into his arms and threw him into the air. The six year old squealed some more. The two rubbed noses, Viktor pressing a kiss on Jem's forehead. "How was your day?"

"Absolutely amazing!" Jem cheered, a heart shaped smile on his face. "We had lot'sa fun at school today. Mr. Chulanont said that his friend came back from over the pond and that because of that we'd have a special presentation on all the landmarks he saw there! Plus some in Japan cause he's Japanese! Da, can we ever go to Amurica?"

"It's America Jem, and I don't know." Viktor nuzzled his nose into his son's neck and just breathed in his scent. God he missed Jem when he had to go to work.

"Mama says we can! She promised already!" Jem fussed.

Viktor clicked his tongue. "She has, has she?"

"I said no such thing James Nikolai Nikiforov." Anika Nikiforov was the most beautiful woman in the world. To him at least. Viktor enjoyed the way his son fussed some more as his wife entered the living room. "I said we'd need to know what your father had to say before we made decisions."

"But that answer's too long for me to remember." Jem whined and angled away from his father. Viktor had to do some quick maneuvering to keep his son in his arms and not drop him in a pile on the floor.

"Suffer." Anika threw teasingly and grinned up at Viktor. "Hi."

"Hi." Viktor leaned forward and pressed his lips into a kiss.

Jem moaned. "Ewww."

"Oh hush." Anika pressed a kiss to his forehead and laughed when he moaned even louder. "Dinner'll be ready in a few."

"Can't wait." Viktor promised. He turned to his son as his wife returned to the kitchen. "How 'bout you and me play a game?"

Jem's pout disappeared. "What game?"

\-------------------------------------

"My compliments to the chef." Viktor smiled as Anika set about clearing the dishes. He had offered but she insisted that he was tired, and boy he truly was. Jem was a dozing heap in his seat, folded over the table, full and content.

Viktor went about to take his son to his bedroom, tucking him in and kissing his head, before returning down stairs and washing the plates while Anika dried them and they talked. It was routine. They'd been married for the past six years (He had been twenty, she had been twenty-two) and now they had a great system between them. It worked, they worked.

"How was your day then?" Viktor started as he swiped the sponge over his plate before dunking it in the water and leaving it there for Anika to retrieve and dry.

"Good." Anika hummed and proceeded to elaborate. "We're planning that party they've been raving about since July. Perhaps we'll get the chance to throw it this time. Well, we're hoping at least. I don't know if we're cursed or something but I must say that it fibbing rains every single time we try- especially when the Meldiv's host it!"

"It's because most of you are English." Viktor chuckled and finished off the spoons and forks.

"But this is not England." Anika rolled her eyes as she finished the last of the cutlery. "What's in the bag you brought home?"

"Oh that?" Viktor wiped his hands on a towel. "A gift from Masaru. His father's just got back and he said he knew I'd like it."

"Let me guess." Anika teased. "It's a stuffed dog?"

"You know me too well." Viktor leaned against the sink and crossed his arms over his chest. "Pray tell how was your day?"

"Not so good." Anika's face fell slightly. "I lost someone today."

"Oh ." Viktor pulled her close.

"She was such a lovely girl. Wasn't any older or younger than me." Anika spilled. "She seemed so happy but she came to see me so there must have been something wrong. Background spoke strongly of neglect and abandonment, reckless behavior, and often losing herself in her day dreams. It's a wonder she managed to get to where she was."

"Where was that?" Viktor asked softly, stroking his wife's back. Anika had a strong sense when it came to people, just like Viktor did. It was why he was a teacher and she was a psychologist. This also meant that they both got really attached to people quite fast. Anika more than Viktor. Losing this patient was hard for his wife.

"She was a baker. Not very big yet but she was on her way." Anika choked on a sob. "She succumbed to depression Viktor. She let it get to her and I thought I was helping! God I thought we were making progress but no! I failed her! I failed her family and I am a horrible person! She has a daughter and a son!"

"Anika, shh. Listen to me. This is most certainly not your fault. You couldn't have known."

"That's the thing! I should have! She tells me everything so I should have known!"

Viktor sighed and gripped his struggling wife in his arms and let her sob. There was nothing he could do but let her get this off her chest. Perhaps after that, she could work on the idea that her patient gave up on herself and that would never ever be her fault.

\-------------------------------------

"Professor Nikiforov?" Viktor paused from where he was hurriedly packing his bag. He didn't need to stop to know who it was speaking to him but he did so out of politeness and respect. If the boy was upset he could not afford to sadden him further. Especially not now when he couldn't stay for a talk.

"I'm sorry Masaru but I have to get home."

"Th-This wont' take long honest!" The brunet insisted, his eyes glazed over. "I just have to tell you something very important."

"Could it really not wait Masaru?" Viktor asked and turned back to his packing. "I promise we'll have a talk later but I have a very bad feeling about something and I just have to get home now."

"That's the thing!" Masaru cried. "I… You know how I told you about how my father isn't really that… favorable except in America and that he has connections that keep him well, informed about... stuff. I heard that someone had done something big just the other day and that they said something about an unfinished screw up in the plan."

"I don't follow you Masaru." Viktor frowned and straightened.

"Well…" Masaru' eyebrows pulled together and he fidgeted with his long sleeves. "I overheard him say the name 'Anika Nikiforov'. I just thought… do you know that person?"

Viktor dropped the papers he was holding. "She's my wife."

Masaru smacked his hands over his mouth. "G-Gomenasai."

\-------------------------------------

"Please. Don't." Viktor was frozen, stuck, incapable of moving. He eyed the man who was dressed in all black, had a gun in one hand and his wife's arm in the other. Viktor begged for calmness and spoke into the receiver of the phone pressed into his ear.

They had been waiting for him, they knew that he would find out and that he would come home. Viktor thanked the heavens that Jem wasn't home. The man and his wife were standing by the doorway and from where Viktor was standing by the car it seemed everything was fine but he could see the sunlight that glinted off of the metal of the gun.

"Please." Viktor tried again as he started to walk closer to their house. "Whatever you want from us. Money, clothes, food, jewelry, my car, my house, take it, take it all. They're yours and you can have them just-"

"We don't need it Mr. Nikiforov." The man smirked. "You can cooperate and this will be easy for both of us, or you can be stubborn about this. Nod once if you wanna hear more."

Viktor nodded.

"Good. You see, we're acquaintances of Yelena. She's a patient of your wife's." The man answered, his violet eyes narrowed as he spoke into his ear piece. "What we need now is to know just what exactly our dear Yelena's told your darling wife so we can gauge just what happens from here on out."

"Those sessions are private!" Anika shrieked as she struggled in the man's arms. "I am not betraying her trust!"

"Stop moving! And don't talk! You can't do that when she's dead." The man shook his head and tightened his grip on Anika and snarled. "I bet you were a part of it. After all, she probably told you everything, like where she lived and what time she got home. Only her doctors would know such relative information. And you know exactly who to give it to to get her killed!"

"What are you talking about? She killed herself!" Viktor snapped and paced himself. He hadn't come here unprepared. On the way he had already called the police. All he had to do was stall. Easy enough when you didn't have a man with a gun holding onto your wife. But he did.

"That's what we want them to believe. Whoever killed Yelena will pay, but that'll only happen if we do things discretely. First things first though, tie up loose ends."

The sound of the gun as it shifted scared everyone but the man holding it and Viktor let out a shout. "Wait! Wait! Anika doesn't know anything! Yelena was a private person except for what she did that particular day but nothing she gave was truly important!"

"Shut up! What is with you and screaming? Just announce it all to the whole world why don't-?!" The man paused and stared at him through the window then glared. "You know stuff too."

"Oh my God, shut up Viktor!" Anika pleaded then turned to her captor. "He doesn't know anything! I don't tell him anything! I swear it! I swear it!"

But the man was not listening. "Dio mio this complicates things. You guys have a kid, don't you?"

"Nyet." Viktor answered reflexively and took a step forward.

"Poster boy then?" The man smirked as he pointed the gun carelessly into the house, out of Viktor's view but he knew where it was pointed now. The family portrait of him, Anika, and… God, Jem.

Viktor narrowed his eyes and flinched when a bullet was clearly released from the gun. "Nephew. He's… my nephew."

"Those eyes beg to differ." The man pressed the gun back to Anika's temple and the woman stiffened even more, the first gunshot scaring her. "I'll ask again Rusky. You got a kid?"

"No."

"If you wanna play it that way." His finger lingered on the trigger.

Anika's eyes sparkled with unshed tears, but she remained strong in the man's hold, gaze fixed on her husband who was being held back by the gun at her head and mouthed the words she never said too often.

'I love you'.

Bang.

\-------------------------------------

Viktor accepted the cup of coffee the young investigator handed to him. He moved as if on autopilot, kept Jem close. His son was asleep, unaware, untainted. He didn't know that he'd lost his mother that day.

"Mr. Nikiforov?" The voice that called out to him sounds the most familiar after all the others he's heard.

Masaru stood by the doorway, a tray of food in his hands. He shook and trembled but stayed firmly rooted, waiting to be acknowledged.

Viktor does not try to smile even though this is a kid. "What are you doing here?"

"My Outo-san brought me." Masaru answered quietly. He walked into the room and placed the tray on the lone table. Then fiddled with his long sleeves. "I'm sorry... about your wife. I wish they'd... that they could have done more."

Viktor flinched at the reminder but reached a hand out to ruffle the boy's head. "You... You were very helpful. Thank you, Masaru."

The sudden tears startled Viktor, his body can't comprehend the shock when the boy goes further to kneel on the floor, body caught in a bow. "I-I really wish I could do more for you! A-And I will! My Outo-san will! He'll keep you safe."

"What? Masaru. Masaru get up." Viktor was gentle, not wanting to wake Jem. He got Masaru back on his feet, pushed back his brown hair from his face. "What are you talking about?"

"Those men... the ones who k-killed your wife." Masaru started. "They're part of an international mafia. The woman, Yelena Plisetsky, was a close friend to their Don. Someone killed Yelena, and they're trying to figure out who. But... but they don't know where to start."

Viktor's mind felt like it was going to fall apart. "Mafia? Masaru... how are you involved in this?"

Masaru opened his mouth to say more but he was interrupted.

"It's because of me." The man by the doorway is most definitely Masaru's father. They look exactly the same, but for Masaru's eyes. His were a rich blue. This man's were brown. Like Anika's.

Viktor found it a little hard to breathe.

"I'm sure you are in a state of shock, Nikiforov-san." The man entered the room and stood by Masaru's side. He smiled, though it was small and sad given the circumstances.

Viktor waited for him to speak, Jem clutched protectively in his arms.

Masaru retreated ever so slightly behind his father, clutched the back of his rich blue hakama.

The air in the room is filled with tension. Masaru's father broke it and said, "My name is Katsuki Yuuri, wakagashira of the Hasetsu clan. We have a lot to talk about."

**Author's Note:**

> So... yay or nay?


End file.
